make of her simplicity. She was either an admirable actress or else—she seemed really white and ill and frightened, but with that kind of woman one never knew how much was "fake."
"Will you please give me your full name and address," he said.
"Prudence Elizabeth Semaphore, 37, Beaconsfield Gardens, South Kensington.
"Condition?"
"Sir."
"Condition, married or single?"
"I am unmarried, as you must have heard me say to the constable."
"Unmarried, hem. Age?"
"Age?"
"Yes, age. How old are you?"
"That, sir," said Prudence with dignity, "is no concern of yours; I decline to answer."
"Well," said the Inspector grimly, "I won't press the question. Perhaps you may answer it later. That'll do," and with a nod he dismissed her. ·
"But the workhouse where my sister is, where is it? How can I get there?"
"She is at St. Mark's Workhouse, but you had better leave her alone."
